


Test Drive

by Terminallydepraved



Series: Works for Others [65]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Awkward Crush, Blow Jobs, Car Sex, Lust at First Sight, M/M, Pornstars, Trans Male Character, porn star connor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:28:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27475051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terminallydepraved/pseuds/Terminallydepraved
Summary: When Connor first moved into his house he’d been expecting issues with the local HOA or neighborhood kids playing too loudly in the street. Not that he’d done anything to deserve such problems, but out of all of his friends who owned houses, their usual complaints came in that sort of local variety. Renting apartments and condos hadn’t left Connor with much experience when it came to things like that. If he had issues with the upstairs neighbors, he typically left it to his landlord to figure out.But he didn’t have a landlord anymore, and none of his expectations left him with much defense against the realization that he was living in what looked to be prime bear territory now.
Relationships: Connor/Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Hank Anderson/Connor
Series: Works for Others [65]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/378145
Comments: 29
Kudos: 141





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gildedfrost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gildedfrost/gifts).



> sup got another fic here for Frost and its based on a fic thread they made awhile ago which you can find here: https://twitter.com/gildedfrost/status/1300264720591663108. id recommend reading it first if you wanna know where this work is going/entails.
> 
> Warning: Connor's a porn star in love/lust with his next door neighbor and has zero idea how to handle it. He has sex with Markus in the first chapter, a fellow porn star, but just know that the main ship in this is hankcon, the markcon is just for work. the actual explicit hankcon will be in ch 2.

When Connor first moved into his house he’d been expecting issues with the local HOA or neighborhood kids playing too loudly in the street. Not that he’d done anything to deserve such problems, but out of all of his friends who owned houses, their usual complaints came in that sort of local variety. Renting apartments and condos hadn’t left Connor with much experience when it came to things like that. If he had issues with the upstairs neighbors, he typically left it to his landlord to figure out.

But he didn’t have a landlord anymore, and none of his expectations left him with much defense against the realization that he was living in what looked to be prime  _ bear  _ territory now. 

“Oh, morning,” called out Hank Anderson, next-door neighbor and the growing source of all of Connor’s newfound discontent. The hose was dwarfed in his big, gnarled hand, his white t-shirt soaked through by stray water. The Saturday morning light glinted off the puddles and hood of his vintage Oldsmobile, glistening bright, but not quite as bright as the sheen of sweat covering Hank’s exposed skin, or the whiteness of his smile as he offered Connor a demoralizing, “We’re in for a hot one today, yeah?”

Connor, who had been in the middle of walking to the end of his driveway to fetch the morning paper, stopped dead in his tracks and gaped. 

The saddest thing was, this wasn’t even the first time Hank Anderson had caught Connor off guard like this. The man seemed inordinately fond of his car, washing it in his driveway every Saturday morning like some sort of sacred ritual dedicated to ruining Connor’s life and libido for the foreseeable future. Connor fumbled the newspaper in his hand and threw on a smile, thankful for the acting experience his job lent him, even if it wasn’t employed all that often given the sorts of scripts that typically found their way into his manager’s lap. 

Because of that, he was sure he seemed fine externally. Internally, he was just thankful that Hank had deigned to keep his shirt on today; otherwise this conversation would be a hell of a lot harder than it already was.

“Yeah,” he managed to get out. Unconsciously, he licked his lips as a few strands of Hank’s hair stuck to his cheeks after wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. Connor forced himself to look at the car instead, glossing over the rear fender, the license plate. He’d already committed that number to memory out of desperation to keep himself under control during these little friendly chats they had. It had yet to work for him, but really, he couldn’t blame the car for that. “Real... hot.”

Just to make matters worse, Hank smiled. It lit up his entire face. Connor was proud of himself for not collapsing onto his driveway, then and there. A thrill of lust ran down his spine; he did his best to look Hank in the eye in lieu of fantasizing about how it might feel to have this giant of a man bend him over the hood of that immaculate car.

“How’s the house treating you? You get everything settled in alright?”

“Yep,” Connor chirped, voice a little shrill to his own ears. He held the newspaper in front of himself like a lifeline. “Gonna finish unpacking everything today. Actually, I was just starting in on the kitchen, so...”

Not the best exit to a conversation, but Connor didn’t have many options; his defenses were weakened. His loins were aflame, or whatever horrible line a romance novel might pin on him in this given moment. Because that’s what this felt like: a horrible, fifty cent romance novel between a handsome, unsuspecting man and the horny pervert who had moved in next to him. 

“Well, holler if you need a hand. Hope you have a good day,” Hank offered to his retreating back— at least, that’s what Connor figured he’d said. Hank was old-school, polite. He said charming things like  _ holler  _ and  _ good morning _ and  _ we’re in for a hot one today.  _

Connor squeaked back, “You too!” and tried not to slam the door behind him.

Once he was back inside the relative safety of his home, he yanked his phone from his pocket and dialed a number blind. It rang twice before a familiar voice rose over the other end.

“Connor?” North mumbled, clearly still in bed and enjoying her day off. “The fuck do you want? It’s fucking early.”

“It’s ten in the morning and I’m having a personal crisis,” he answered tonelessly. He sagged against the front door, slowly drifting closer and closer to the floor as his knees gave up the fight to keep him standing. 

“Then keep it personal.”

God, he could always count on his manager to be sympathetic in his darkest hours. He already knew what she’d say too if he told her what was going on. She’d tell him to either fuck the guy or ignore him, and neither of those options did him much good as things were now. Fucking his neighbor couldn’t end well, not for something like a fling. He’d just signed for his fucking mortgage— there was no way he could move away if things went sour. 

And ignoring Hank… Ignoring how that shirt fit him, those shorts across his ass as he bent over to scrub at his windshield… Connor whimpered as North sighed heavily, just a crackle of static in his ear. 

“What the hell do you want me to do?” she asked, patience wearing thin. “If it’s a family issue, I can get you time off—”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that.” God, it’d be simpler if it was. Connor gently smacked the back of his head against the door a few times. He just needed to get that fantasy out of his head. Even if it wasn’t with Hank, so long as he could pretend… “I need a favor.”

North sighed. The sound of shifting fabric echoed across the line. “Alright. Shoot.”

“We’ve got that shoot with Markus coming up, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you find an Oldsmobile for it? A grey one.”

North, bless her heart, didn’t ask him why. She just sighed quietly before finishing with, “I think I know a guy… but no promises. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks,” Connor said, ending the call there. 

It wouldn’t do all that much to scratch the itch those Saturday morning car washes seemed to incite, but it was something, and something was always better than nothing.

\---

North, to her eternal credit, did fantastic work at the drop of a dime. 

“Wow,” Connor said aloud as he stood over the car on set and waited for the cameramen and director to finish up their final preparations. North, clipboard and headset in place, stood beside him, going over the blocking while they still had a moment to do so. “You really found one. Where’d you get it?”

“I told you, I knew a guy,” she said briskly before pressing the clipboard in front of him. “Pay attention, Arkay. I want this done in one, you hear me? I’ve got an appointment at one and I’m not missing it just because you felt the need to gawk over a set prop.”

Connor sighed, smiling despite her tone. North was always like this, so he didn’t take it to heart. “Sounds good to me,” he told her, casting out a searching look for his co-star. He spotted him quickly. It wasn’t a hard thing to do; when Markus was in a room, most people seemed inconsequential in comparison. 

They were both shoe-ins for this kind of scene. Slutty twink and handsome jock having some fun in a sexy car… Well, it wasn’t exactly the most inspired premise, but it was porn, so who could be shocked by that? Connor wasn’t in it for the hard-hitting plots or clever scripts; he did it because he was good at it, and when the co-star was right like it was today, it even managed to be fun too. He untied his robe and let it fall from his shoulders. 

“Looking good, Arkay,” Markus called out, sauntering closer as the director and cameraman readied themselves for things to begin. “Think we’ll get this done in one?”

Connor laughed a little. “I’ll owe you dinner if we don’t. Let’s do some good work, alright?” he offered, tossing his robe off the set and in North’s general direction. 

Markus made a show of admiring Connor’s get-up. The short daisy-dukes rode him high, practically hiding nothing on him especially when he turned around to lean over the car appreciatively. His small, knotted flannel top gave him the stereotypical baby slut look, rounded out by a pair of converse sneakers Connor had brought from home. 

Markus’s outfit for the shoot had probably been made up of his own clothing too. Faded jeans and a muscle tee with a varsity-style jacket over top, beaten up boots down below. They fit Markus well, accentuating his figure and the muscle he had on him. Connor had always thought Markus had the face and body for modeling. His temperament, however, was pornstar through and through. Markus let his hand drift over the hood of the car before entering the driver’s side, the window already rolled down. 

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Markus chuckled, following him onto the set. His eyes lingered on Connor’s face. “We’re pretty good at making it good. Whenever you’re ready,” he called out to the director. 

“Places,” the director shouted as Connor stood just out of frame. “And… action!”

The formula for porn was incredibly static. Entrance sequence, instigation, foreplay, penetration, and then the obligatory money shot before things cut to black: the recipe was the same each time, give or take a few additional elements to spice things up. Connor knew plenty of pornstars who were bored to tears by the similarity of scripts, the sameness of every single scene, but to him, the routine of it all was comforting and mind-numbing. There were rarely, if ever, surprises when it came to filming porn. Everything progressed like a well-oiled (hah) machine, and so long as everyone hit their lines and performed properly, things began and ended with relative ease. 

It was mathematical, in a way, and Connor had always found that reassuring.

This premise was no different. Connor was the doe-eyed twink looking for a good time, one he was sure he’d find with Markus inside his vintage car. Inhaling and exhaling, Connor put on a sultry smile that he panned to the nearest camera as he sauntered up to Markus’s open window. With the confidence born of countless shoots just like this one, Connor peered into the car and straight at the camera mounted in the passenger side seat. 

“Hey there, big guy,” he said in a breathy voice. “Think you could give me a ride?”

The camera over Connor’s shoulder got a good look of Markus’s handsome face breaking out in a leering smile. He looked Connor up and down, lingering on his long, bare legs and then back up before settling on Connor’s face. “That depends,” he said, hitching his seat back until it pulled away from the steering wheel, freeing up a considerable amount of space by the floorboard. Markus spread his legs. “How far are you willing to go?”

Cliche but straight to the point. Connor matched Markus’s grin. He licked his lips and made a show of dropping his gaze to the bulge in Markus’s tight jeans. The fluffer had already seen to him getting warmed up, and just as always, Markus was as impressive upstairs as he was down. “As far as you’re willing to take me, big guy.”

The cameras shifted as Markus opened the door to the car. Connor crept closer, gasping when a big hand landed on his ass, squeezing and fondling before he was pulled on inside. Connor had filmed in a car before and usually hated it. It was almost always a cramped, awkward affair. Porn directors loved using muscle cars and sleek looking racers, but the reality of it was that those types of cars rarely had much room to work with. The Oldsmobile, on the other hand, stood up to the vision in his fantasies by being more than big enough to accommodate them both. 

And wasn’t that a revelation. Connor felt himself grow a little wet as it rushed over him, exacerbated by the strong grip Markus had on his ass. He kneaded at him, digging in his fingers, pulling the material of his shorts taut, flaunting his asscheeks to the camera in a shot that they all knew would send the viewers frothing. Connor closed his eyes, giving in to the thought of having Hank hold him like this. Would he be rough? Would he like feeling him like this, wet and eager for him?

Moaning a little, Connor rocked his hips against Markus’s trapped cock. “Oh, wow,” he moaned, hamming it up as he dragged one of Markus’s hands up his shirt to fondle his chest. “You’ve got a lot of horsepower under the hood, don’t you?”

“Could always use a tune up, baby,” Markus answered, somehow making the shitty script sound lewd when he put it in that deep, low purr of his. He leaned in, biting at Connor’s lips. “You wanna take a look down there? Maybe give me some attention? See if you can handle all that power before I give it to you real good.”

God. Connor would do just about anything if someone like Markus was the one saying it, but even he had his limits when it came to cheesy dialogue like that. With a well-practiced groan and a little mewl of agreement, Connor slid out of Markus’s lap and down onto the floorboard to curl up between his spread legs. He pawed at the man’s fly and made sure to look up at the camera located in the back seat so it’d get a good shot of him sucking on his bottom lip, of his tongue wetting his lips. Markus lifted his hips a bit and then his jeans were down his thighs. His cock sprung free and rested against his flat abdomen. Markus tugged his shirt out of the way, then pulled it over his head, tossing it into the passenger seat. 

His chiseled abs looked absolutely devastating, and those abs served as the perfect backdrop to the cock standing at full attention just in front of Connor’s nose. Markus was big but not quite the biggest Connor had ever worked with. Some of the guys they brought onto these shoots had dicks so large that Connor wondered how they managed to walk without a forward facing lean in their posture. Thankfully, Markus had never been all that intimidating. He was a good size, good thickness, picture-perfect in a way that inspired Connor—who had long thought himself impervious to most porn stereotypes—to salivate the moment that cock met the open air. Connor made himself comfortable on the floorboard, shifting his knees and licking his lips. 

Oh, yes. This wasn’t a hardship for him at all.

Connor made sure to make it look good, the blowjob. In porn, that was the whole point— looking good versus actually getting the most out of things pleasure-wise. He lapped at Markus’s tip and smacked his cock against his tongue a few times, whining softly as he suckled and kissed, teasing Markus like he was a piece of candy. In the back of his mind, Connor kept up a slow count. There was no tried and true time allotment per act in these sorts of things, but the director generally had a timeline he expected to keep to. Connor worked his way towards three minutes, moving away from the teasing licks to head-bobbing swallows and then to the intense portion: the deep-throating.

Markus kept up a stream of dirty talk above his head, lewd and base and ego-building for all that it was scripted. Connor closed his eyes and did his best to concentrate on suppressing his gag-reflex, but once again, maybe it was his own fault, but the thought of someone else’s cock in his mouth nearly took Connor out of the scene. 

Markus wasn’t too big, but what about Hank? A man that large… God, Connor didn’t even care if it’d wreck his voice for a week, he’d take that monster down his throat in a heartbeat if it meant getting one of those big hands in his hair and that low, rumbling voice to praise him the way Markus did now. 

A tug to his hair broke Connor from the thought; Markus stared down at him with a furrowed brow, and it was then that Connor realized he while he may not have been the only one counting the seconds away, he definitely had stopped paying attention to how long he’d been mouthing at Markus’s cock. He’d lost count, and it was more than time to move things along.

With a careful, slow blink of the eyes, Connor told Markus that he understood. The hand in his hair tightened and Connor made a show of moaning in protest as Markus pulled him off his cock his cock and back into his lap. The steering wheel dug into Connor’s back, but the discomfort was secondary. 

Markus tangled his fingers in the waistband of Connor’s shorts before dropping them lower, fingers hooking into the thin hems. “Gonna fuck you, baby,” he said, husky and low. He tore through Connor’s shorts with little effort to reveal Connor’s bare, naked skin. “Gonna ride you hard and put you away  _ real  _ wet.”

He punctuated it with a sharp slap to Connor’s rear, just a slight sting that sent Connor bouncing in the man’s lap even harder. Connor looked down between them, watching as Markus’s dark hand roved over his mound, his thumb rubbing at Connor’s clit. Shivers of actual pleasure tore down Connor’s spine. Oh, Markus knew every spot on him by now, had to for as long as they’d been working together, and Connor had to bite down on his bottom lip to hold back the needy little sound tickling the back of his throat. 

“That’s it,” Markus rasped, spreading Connor wide, making sure his glistening folds were on full display for one of the cameras littered around the interior of the car. “Oh, baby, you’re so wet for me. Wanna see you fuck yourself on me. You think you can do that?”

“Please,” Connor pleaded, reaching for Markus’s cock as he rose up onto his knees, hovering over it. The leather seats creaked beneath him, sticky-slick with sweat and doing terrible things to his self-control. It was harder than he expected, he realized, to keep present when he’d spent so long fantasizing about doing something like this in this specific car. “Come on, fill me up. Fuck me, baby, I wanna ride you so bad.” Not as badly as he wanted to ride Hank, if he were being honest with himself, but Markus made a pretty good substitute.

The blunt head of Markus’s cock met his entrance. Connor was a little surprised at the sensation; he was already so wet, and that didn’t always tend to happen. At least not this early, but oh well. He was excited. He couldn’t help it. He sucked in a breath and slowly lowered himself onto Markus, making sure to let out a low cry as that cock split him open. Markus gripped him by the ass and took control then, yanking him down until he was buried to the hilt. Connor threw back his head. It felt so good— 

“That’s it,” a low voice crooned, almost deep enough but not quite there. Not enough to make him  _ holler.  _ “So fucking sexy, aren’t you, baby? Let’s see you show me what you’ve got.”

Connor knew Hank wouldn’t talk like that. He wouldn’t use shitty porn lines on him, and he probably wouldn’t make terrible jokes about his car and horsepower and  _ riding,  _ but… God, it didn’t even matter, did it? Connor was too far gone for the man for it to penetrate the haze of fantasy overcoming him right now. If he closed his eyes, he’d just see Hank. Hank’s sweaty, ruddy face, his sharp blue eyes, his big, strong hands— 

A thick gush of slick coated them both as Connor’s arousal skyrocketed. He tore open his eyes and pitched forward, wrapping his arms around Markus’s shoulders. 

Internally, Connor’s professionalism yelled at him for the move, and it sounded entirely too much like North for him to be comfortable. He knew he couldn’t stay like this for long, the camera angle was all wrong for it and the director wanted to see their faces as they fell into each other, but Connor milked it for as long as he could, needing the support as his mind spun like a dervish and fed him more images of what it might be like… what it could possible feel like… if he had the balls to actually make a move on the bear next door.

Hank was bigger than Markus. He’d be hairier too. No waxed chest, trim and chiseled… Hank would be all man, all bulk and strength and calloused, rough hands… Connor sucked in air that didn’t do enough to sate him, whimpered as Markus hammered into him, measured and fast. Hank would be slower, wouldn’t he? He’d take his time. He was a kind guy, enamored with his habits and rituals. Oh, god, would he make Connor beg for his touch? Would he make him work for it until he couldn’t do anything  _ but  _ beg for Hank to put him out of his misery?

The windows were beginning to fog up. Connor’s loose flannel top stuck to his sweaty skin, the knot threatening to slip open at any moment. How long had they kept things up? It was so hard to remember, to pay attention, but Markus was trembling beneath his hands and sweating just as much as he was. Connor looked at Markus and clenched around his cock. Hank would be bigger. Somehow, Hank had to be bigger than this. It lit a fire beneath the one kindling in Connor’s gut. He bounced so hard that the car’s suspension rocked right along with him. Markus swore and slammed his head back into the seat. 

“Fucking Christ,” he groaned, delivering another smack to Connor’s ass. “You want me to fill you up that bad, baby?”

Gibberish and filth spewed out of Connor’s lips at that. What he said, he didn’t even know. He’d have to watch the video to know for sure, but that was just fine. He felt good right now. He felt… really good, and he certainly wasn’t the only one either. 

Markus’s movements became even more frantic. Connor figured that meant it was almost time for the money shot. He tightened his grip on Markus’s shoulders and threw back his head, moaning louder and louder, whining pitifully as Markus’s cock slipped free from him and those strong hands urged him to move, to twist, to reposition so his back was to Markus’s chest, his thighs held in either hand, spread wide for the camera positioned just outside the open driver’s seat door. 

Connor, who had long abolished any shame he may have once had, simply played into it. He tightened and clamped down on Markus. Any second now… God, Connor hoped he’d orgasm too this time. It wasn’t always a given with shoots like these, but Markus was good, so big and hitting him… just… right—!

His thoughts were on the memory of Hank’s deep rumble of a laugh when he finally fell over that precipice, and it hit him hard enough that he hardly registered Markus coming just a few thrusts after him. 

When Markus came, Connor didn’t have to pretend very much to make sure it looked good. He threw back his head and let out a moan worthy of his paycheck, lips formed around an  _ O  _ and eyes rolled back in his skull. The deluge of cum poured into him, hot and molten, and they only had to shift slightly to have Markus’s cock slipping out of him, the creampie trickling down Connor’s folds glistening and exactly what the audience expected. Markus’s hands held him open like that, cool air chilling the wet portions of Connor’s skin. 

Connor panted for breath. God, that had been intense. Something about doing it in this car got him entirely too worked up. He hadn’t needed to pretend for a good portion of all of it, and that, more than anything, told him he’d probably just knocked it out of the park. No need for a take two. One and done, just like North had wanted.

“And cut!” the director shouted, the cameras pulling away. Connor let out a ragged sigh and finally closed his legs, sagging into Markus’s lap for a moment to catch his breath. His co-star chuckled knowingly and didn’t try to move; he let Connor rest against his chest as he reached for his discarded shirt in the passenger side seat. 

“Man, I sure made a mess of you,” Markus observed, offering the shirt to him as the crew busied themselves with their cameras and microphones. “You were clenching down on me like crazy towards the end there. You good?”

Connor took the shirt gratefully and gave himself a few cursory swipes, cleaning off the majority of Markus’s cum just so he wouldn’t embarrass himself when he managed to stand up. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I’m good. You?”

“Never been better. Kind of hungry though. Think they’ll let us go early for lunch since we did so well?”

Laughing, Connor shrugged as he peeled himself out of Markus’s lap and out of the Oldsmobile. He stumbled slightly, knees still a little shaky, and held the door open a little wider for Markus as he followed him out onto the set. “They better,” he said, scanning the milling crew for North. “Do they have any idea how uncomfortable it is to fuck in a car? We deserve a treat for all of that contorting. An early lunch is only fair.”

Markus stretched languidly once he was upright. “Amen to that.”

“Connor, great work!” North’s voice called out. Connor turned in the direction it came from, spotting her emerging from behind the director’s chair, clipboard still in hand. “One take, just like we agreed. Really, I appreciate it. It’s hell trying to reschedule shit with the hours we keep sometimes.”

“Anything for you,” he murmured, smiling despite himself. It hadn’t been that hard of a favor to pull off, and anyway, she’d earned it after pulling enough strings to satisfy his last minute request the way she had. “Think they’ll let us break for lunch now?”

“Definitely. They had this slotted to take another hour at least, so there’s no issue. Let’s get you dressed and showered. I can wrap up any last minute details and you can take the afternoon off.”

North handed him his robe and Connor took it gratefully, covering back up before the chill on his skin had him shivering. “Anything planned for me after that?” Markus’s manager was doing the same with him, slapping him on the back and praising him for another job done well. He deserved it, honestly. Markus always did good work. That was why Connor enjoyed working with him.

His eyes flicked down to Markus’s still unzipped jeans, his soft cock hanging from the opening. Connor felt a twinge deep in his gut as he let out an amused huff. Well, it was certainly one of the many reasons why they always had a good time with each other. 

But again, Connor can’t help but think of someone else. How big would Hank be soft? How would he look, disheveled, sweaty, spent and softening through the open slit of his jeans? That twinge rolled through him again, insistent and embarrassing; it wasn’t often that Connor left a shoot feeling randy and unsatisfied, especially a shoot with Markus. Maybe indulging in a portion of his fantasy hadn’t been the best way to get over his stupid little crush. 

Maybe it’d just made him crave the real thing that much more. 

Connor looked away from Markus. North, as it turned out, had been rattling off his schedule for the week, and he made an effort to pay attention. 

But like clockwork, Connor found his focus wavering. His gaze drifted towards the Oldsmobile as the set crew came in with cleaning supplies to touch it up, either for the next shoot it was scheduled to appear in or so it could be returned to the owner without scandalizing the gracious person who’d lent it in the first place. A few stood around the rear fender, their conversation distant but clear; they were admiring the vintage vehicle and the obvious care its owner put into it. One man rested his hand on the trunk, giving it a loving pat.

Connor’s eyes fell a bit lower, skimming over the license plate. A set assistant knelt beside it, idly chatting with the standing man as she removed the false plate cover they had put on the car for the shoot, revealing the one still mounted beneath it. 

“—and you’ve got a set with Gavin for Friday, looks like it’s just a routine delivery man plot, so I don’t think that’ll be any issue for you,” North recited, flipping through her clipboard page by page. She looked over the top of it and cleared her throat impatiently. “Are you paying attention, Connor? This is your life I’m laying out for you, you know.” 

Connor felt his stomach drop into his shoes.

“Yeah,” he croaked, never looking away from that license plate number. “I heard you.”

The car didn’t just look like Hank’s Oldsmobile.

It  _ was  _ his Oldsmobile.


	2. Chapter 2

“Did you get it or not, Hank?”

Hank Anderson sighed loudly, scrolling through his email inbox at a snail’s pace as North audibly lost her patience with him over the phone’s tinny little speaker. “I’m looking, alright?” he muttered, narrowing his eyes as he carefully clicked into the numerous folders. “Why the hell does it sort by Social or Promotional? Why can’t it all just go into one folder?”

“Because some people actually get enough emails a day that they’d lose things otherwise, Hank,” North explained, no doubt rubbing her eyes as she contemplated hanging up and letting that be the end of it. “Did you check your spam folder? It  _ is  _ porn. God forbid it actually flag it for what it is.”

Grumbling, Hank did as she suggested. He scrolled briefly through the Viagra ads and hot singles in his area looking for love, and, lo and behold, tucked between a Nigerian prince’s plea for help and a doctor telling him he’d die of a heart attack if he didn’t open his email  _ right now,  _ was an email from North’s business professional handle. 

“Found it,” he said, moving it back into the main inbox. He opened it up and looked at the title of the attached zip file.  _ “Hot Baby Slut Takes a Ride to Pound Town?  _ Seriously, North? I lend you my car and you title its debut performance  _ that?”  _

North laughed a little. “It’s porn, Hank. Seriously, what did you expect? Thanks again, by the way, for letting us borrow it. The baby slut in question had a vision in mind and you really came through for us.”

Hank opened up the video and paused it before it could start playing. His fingers drummed over the keyboard impatiently. “Well, glad to help the field of art and all that,” he chuckled.

“Oh, absolutely. I’ll let you go watch it, because I’m sure you’re just champing at the bit for a chance to see your car in action. Text me later about your thoughts on it. We’re just about ready to drop it, but there’s still some time for last minute edits if you see anything egregious.”

“I’ll be sure to take very thorough notes,” Hank lied, rolling his eyes. “Talk to you later, North.”

“See you, Hank.”

The call ended and Hank set his phone down on the desk. He eyed the title screen on his computer and let out a low sigh. He had never expected a casual acquaintanceship to turn into the sort of friendship that got him early access to porn movies before they hit the shelves, but maybe Ben had been right about getting out there and making friends that weren’t on the force. North really had come through for him with this; it was gratifying to know that joining random book clubs at the local library might yield strange ass perks like this. 

Hank made himself comfortable in his chair. He glanced at the clock. Still early. He turned off his phone. 

He hit play and leaned back, already smiling by the time the title screen faded in from black. Cheesy porn music filtered in, low and synthy, sleazy beyond belief. The first scene opened up to a starter shot of what looked to be some attempt at a car wash, if there were car washes that did their work inside a low lit studio. His car took center stage, practically glittering under the attention. Hank let out a low sigh. Even if the porn sucked, at least his car sure looked pretty.

He glanced down at his phone and considered sending a text to North to compliment her on how nice the camerawork was on his car. The music changed though, and he looked back at the screen, and that one look promptly took the thought of anything else straight out of his head. 

The baby slut had arrived. 

The camera took special care to make this reveal something special. It panned from the bottom up, dragging slowly, taking advantage of multiple angles to show off the well-worn shoes, the long, bare legs that seemed to go on for miles and miles. Tiny little shorts, daisy-dukes, framed a crotch and ass that had Hank salivating despite himself. He gripped the arm of his chair preemptively, rapt. Higher and higher the camera panned. It couldn’t have taken more than ten seconds; for some reason, it felt like it took longer. 

The figure navigated around the car and leaned over the driver’s side, peering inside the vehicle. A camera stashed inside the back seat gave the audience their first look at the sexy creature gracing their screen, and the second the frame settled on his face, Hank’s jaw hit the fucking floor.

“Hey there, big guy,” Connor—his  _ next-door neighbor _ Connor—said in a breathy voice. “Think you could give me a ride?”

Hank smacked at the keyboard blindly, somehow managing to hit the spacebar. He stared at the freeze-frame of Connor’s face, questioning if it was actually him, but yeah, yeah, it was. There was no mistaking those dark brown puppy dog eyes or the silly little hairdo. His full lips were glossy and pink, and he was showing more skin than Hank had ever seen on him, but… 

“Jesus Christ,” Hank wheezed, sagging into his seat. Connor had said he did some acting. Was…  _ this  _ what he’d meant by that?

Unsure of what possessed him to do it, Hank hit the spacebar, unpausing the video. He was lashed to this runaway horse, and the only way to handle it was to go along with the flow.

The shock didn’t abate so much as transfer into another emotion, one that Hank couldn’t name. The other guy, some dark skinned model-handsome man with startlingly gorgeous eyes and a smirk that put to shame even the most devote playboys on earth, did his best approximation of eye-fucking Connor, something made a hell of a lot easier by the fact that Connor was barely wearing anything at all. “That depends,” he said, hitching his seat back until it pulled away from the steering wheel, freeing up a considerable amount of space by the floorboard. He spread his legs wide. An invitation. “How far are you willing to go?”

Hank just about choked on his tongue when Connor, in the same, winsome tone he used when asking him if he could borrow tools or household supplies, eagerly replied, “As far as you’re willing to take me, big guy.”

Holy  _ shit.  _

Things progressed rapidly from there. Connor got in the car, the camera lovingly taking care to zoom in on his ass in those tiny little shorts of his. The guy’s cock came out, and then— Oh, Mary and Joseph, then his cock went  _ down Connor’s throat.  _

Hank’s hand went to his dick before he could rationalize what he was doing. He squeezed himself through his pants, hissing loudly, but Connor’s stretched lips kept taking up the entirety of the screen, and that made it really hard to talk himself down from jerking off over his next-door neighbor. His next-door neighbor he’d somehow befriended. The next-door neighbor he saw regularly and would have to continue to coexist with in a socially acceptable way.

“Gonna fuck you, baby,” Connor’s co-star said, husky and low. Hank blinked stupidly as the guy tore through Connor’s shorts with little effort. There was suddenly so much more bare skin on screen, pale, perfect,  _ wet _ . “Gonna ride you hard and put you away  _ real  _ wet.”

Oh, shit. Oh, holy  _ shit.  _ Connor was flushed pink all over, wetness dripping down his thighs, matting the hair over his mound. Hank sucked down a sudden mouthful of spit as the guy dragged Connor off the floorboard (would it… they cleaned his car, right? But… what if they  _ hadn’t?)  _ and into his lap. The camera behind the front seat got a great shot of Connor’s pussy hovering over his co-star’s cock. Hank gripped himself through his pants and let out an almost pained sound. 

When they started fucking for real, Hank knew he wasn’t going to make it out of this experience with his dignity or pride in tact. This was no time to be a gentleman. Not with Connor’s face screwed up in pleasure like that. Not with him clutching that guy’s shoulders so tight that his knuckles turned white, and definitely not when he came so loudly that Hank wondered if he couldn’t hear himself from next door.

Hank was going to hell specifically because he watched the rest of the video, and then watched it again, dick in hand, coming so hard that he half thought he might have pulled something by the time he came back down.

He reached out and hit the spacebar, pausing the video on the final money shot of Connor with his legs spread. Those high splotches of color on his cheeks looked too familiar, even if the contexts were completely different. Hank bit down on his bottom lip and let go of his softening cock. Connor looked so… fucking good like that. So gorgeous and sexy and just…

“Fucking hell,” Hank groaned, covering his face with his clean hand as he sank into his chair. 

North’s voice filtered through his head.  _ The baby slut in question had a vision in mind. You really delivered for us.  _

His next-door-neighbor was a pornstar. A pornstar who clearly had a crush on him.

Well, that was going to make their Friday evening standing date awkward, wouldn’t it?

—-

Hank quickly realized that he had been wrong when Friday evening rolled around.

Learning that Connor did porn didn’t make the date awkward— it just made it hard to focus on anything that wasn’t Connor’s ass in those tight jeans.

“Sorry,” Connor said, and he’d been talking for awhile now, but Hank was only just tearing himself away from his ass long enough to pay attention to what he was saying. He stood up out of his bent position, closing the oven as he looked over his shoulder with an apologetic look on his face. “I thought it would be done by now, but it’s looking like we’ll have to give it another half hour or so.”

Hank shifted in his bar stool, hoping he didn’t look flushed or anything like that. “It’s fine,” he murmured, looking over at the oven that held the evening’s dinner. “I can’t even tell you the last time I had homemade lasagna. Trust me, I’ll wait an eternity if I have to.”

And that was even the truth. Sure, he’d never turn down an invitation to dinner from a doe-eyed beauty when one came knocking to borrow a cup of sugar, but Connor’s cooking was good enough that Hank wouldn’t have even regretted it if the whole thing had been platonic from the start. So long as Connor kept feeding him as well as he did, he’d consider it a pretty sweet gig.

But he had a hankering that it wasn’t platonic. Probably hadn’t been from the start if Hank cared to reevaluate their interactions from the day they met. All those lingering stares, the quick way Connor would squeak by as he ran to his mailbox or the trash bin at the end of his drive… 

“Come on,” Connor sighed, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He reached for Hank’s wrist, tugging him out of the bar stool and towards the living room. “Let’s just wait it out in here, yeah? It’s not great for an eternity, but the sofa’s better than the kitchen at least.”

Hank went willingly, huffing out a laugh under his breath as Connor coaxed him onto the leather couch. The two of them, pressed together on that little couch? “Sure. If you say so.” He’d think Connor was teasing him if the man wasn’t so clueless about him knowing everything already.

And Connor was clueless. Hank wasn’t prone to narcissism, not at this age, but it hadn’t taken long to realize that the whole stunt with his car and that porno hadn’t been some roundabout way of Connor seducing him. It hadn’t been intentional, and a quick conversation with North proved that it’d really just been Connor trying to scratch an itch without letting anyone know what he was actually after. 

But Hank knew what he was after now, and the sooner Connor realized he knew, and that he was interested, the sooner the two of them could make good on the tension that had been permeating their interactions ever since the day Connor moved in next door.

Connor plopped down next to him, all graceful limbs and smiles. “We could start the movie now,” he offered, tearing Hank back to the present. “If you want something to kill time.”

“We can just chat,” Hank said instead. They had about thirty minutes. He could think of a hell of a lot to do with thirty minutes. “Beats pausing just to grab food.”

“Fair enough. What do you want to talk about?”

If he were being honest, Hank would say something along the lines of how he hadn’t ever realized how full Connor’s lips were until he saw them wrapped around a cock. But, since that was inappropriate, he instead cleared his throat and went with, “So, how’s work?” instead. It wasn’t subtle, not for what he had in mind, but it was as good a segue as any. The ruse had gone on for long enough.

Connor didn’t even flinch. He just smiled and shrugged a little. “Work’s work,” he answered. “How about you? How are things at the hardware store?”

Wily bastard. Hank huffed. “Same as always. Sometimes I wonder if it’s better to deal with asshole customers than the drunks I used to handle at the precinct, but then I remember customers don’t tend to puke on my shoes. Then I feel a bit more grateful for where I am.”

Wrinkling his nose, Connor pulled a face. “Yeah, that’d do it. Nothing like a startling dose of perspective to make even the shittiest dayjob experience seem better than the alternative.”

“And what about you?” Hank said smoothly. “You ever had any messy days at the agency?”

Dark brown eyes glanced at him before quickly looking away. Were his cheeks a little pink? Oh, Hank could tell that they were. He resisted the urge to grin.

“Not… really,” Connor stammered.

Hank slid a little closer to him, the leather sofa creaking quietly under his shifting weight. “Really? Never? That’s a little hard to believe. You do modeling, right? Some acting? There’s gotta be all sorts of messy situations you just have to… ride out.”

Connor nibbled his bottom lip. God, that did things to him. Terrible, terrible things. “Hank?” he whispered, fingers wrapped tightly around the fabric of his shirt as he did his best to maintain composure. “What’s… all this about?”

Lifting a brow, Hank let out a low sigh. “I’ve been coming over here every week for over a month,” he said quietly. “Your cooking is good, Connor, and the company is top notch, but I’d hope that you would have realized why else I might keep coming back for more.”

He waited a pause, just a beat, and then curled his lips into a smile. “Especially after you had sex in my car,” Hank delivered evenly, maybe with a bit of a growl in his voice, just to send a shiver down Connor’s spine. “A man can only handle so much, Connor, and that is definitely the breaking point.”

The color drained from Connor’s face, stealing it away before it could really make itself at home. His eyes flew to the other side of the room, wide and more than a little shocked. His voice croaked as he stammered, “That’s—”

But Hank took Connor by the chin before he could get out much more than that, covering his mouth with his thumb. He pressed down on his parted lips and Connor quieted instantly, eyes wide, breath halting just like that. “You don’t have to explain anything to me,” Hank told him, leaning a little closer, watching the way Connor’s cheeks grew flushed and rosy just like they had in that video. “I’m not mad. I’m not turned off. Hell, I’m flattered, and I think this way we can stop with the pretenses and just get right down to it, yeah?”

Connor’s lips trembled beneath his thumb. They were soft, softer than Hank could have ever imagined. He shifted his hand a little, cupping Connor’s cheek. Those lips parted even as he leaned into Hank’s touch. “Hank,” he said simply, pupils dilating until they nearly blotted out the brown entirely. “How did you… find out?”

“I guess we have a mutual acquaintance,” Hank said easily. “North sent me a copy of the video as thanks for loaning her my car. She told me you… ah. That you were very specific when you asked for the model you wanted to work in. I’m not a vain man, Connor, but it’s hard to misinterpret that big of a signal, yeah?”

Connor swallowed. “You… aren’t misinterpreting anything. You have no idea what you’ve been doing to me. No idea at all.”

Rich of him to say something like that; Hank couldn’t remember the last time he ever jerked off this much. Probably not since high school, at least. 

“Join the fucking club,” Hank chuckled, too eager to hold it against Connor. Not when Connor could hold all of him against him instead. “You’ve been driving me up the wall too, you know. You think I haven’t noticed how slack jawed you get when you catch me outside working on my car?”

Instead of responding to that, Connor darted forward, pressing their lips together in a kiss. From the heat bleeding into Hank’s cheeks, he had to assume Connor went for it to hide how flushed he’d become. Not the kind of man to look a gift horse in the mouth, Hank quickly tangled his hands in Connor’s hair, pulling him closer, closer still, nearly dragging the man into his lap to deepen the kiss and feel the long, slim press of his body against his own. It wasn’t at all like he’d dreamt it’d be; somehow, it was _ better. _

Hank let out a low groan that elicited a shiver from Connor just like that. He moved his hands lower, sliding down Connor’s back, settling around his small waist. Connor kissed like he knew what he wanted and wasn’t afraid to go after it, no holds barred. Hank kind of loved it, but he still broke the kiss to breathe, staring at Connor’s wet, pink lips before looking him in the eye.

“Wow,” he exhaled. 

“Hank,” Connor whined, rolling against him, dragging himself against the hard bulge forming in Hank’s jeans. “C’mon. Touch me. You can’t just kiss me like that and not—”

“Hey, hey, who said I wouldn’t touch you?” Hank dragged his hands beneath the bottom hem of Connor’s shirt, delighting in the soft heat of bare skin that answered him eagerly. “God, you feel good. So fucking good.”

Connor rocked against him, more insistent this time. “I can be good for you. So good. Do you want that? Do you want to fuck me, Hank?” he said this time, ducking in to lay kisses along Hank’s neck, beneath his jaw. “I want you to. I’ve wanted you to since the moment we first met. Don’t tease me. Please.”

Things were moving fast, but Hank hadn’t expected anything else. Connor had been so strung out over this that he’d went as far as to film a porn movie in his fucking car, and Hank… Well, Hank had worn out that video’s replay button to hell and back dealing with his own bevy of need.

“Alright,” he said, tugging higher, pulling Connor’s shirt off over his head. “Whatever you want, Connor.”

Connor didn’t need much more than that. He went for Hank’s zipper faster than Hank could process, and within the span of a couple of seconds, they were both tearing at each other’s clothing until they were naked enough to get to the main attraction. Connor’s shirt disappeared behind the couch. Hank’s didn’t come off, but the buttons were undone, his chest bared for Connor’s hands and mouth. Off came Connor’s pants and underwear, and Hank did his best to drag his jeans down. They tangled around his knees as he got a hand between Connor’s legs, cupping his mouth, rocking his fingers against Connor’s clit—

“Oh,  _ god!”  _ Connor cried, bouncing down on his hand as he threw back his head. His blush went down to his shoulders, and that lit a certain kind of fire deep in Hank’s belly, one he didn’t have the time to analyze as his mouth chased it lower and lower. “Hank, Hank! Do it, do it, fuck me already, I need it—”

A hand wrapped around Hank’s dick, stroking him firmly. Hank bit out a curse of his own, glancing down, swallowing hard at the sight of Connor’s graceful hand wrapped around him like that. God, those hands. “C’mon, babe,” he heard himself growl, tugging Connor down by the hip, letting him roll his wet pussy along the length of his cock. “You wanna ride me? You want me to…” He couldn’t hold back a bubble of laughter. “You want me to ride you hard and put you away wet?”

Connor’s glare was barely hot, so overcome by lust as he was. He groaned, partially from need, partially from exasperation, but he didn’t argue as he lined himself up and sank down onto Hank with a broken moan of satisfaction.

“Oh, god,” he cried, latching onto Hank’s shoulders for dear life. “You are… so big—!”

“I know,” Hank said, maybe a little cocky, maybe just glad to impress. He took hold of Connor and bounced him gently, testing out how he felt, how much he could take. “You good, honey? You feeling good?”

Connor nodded frantically. He braced his knees on the sofa and lifted himself higher, coming down much harder than Hank would have expected. He took it like a champ, like it was his job, and Hank groaned just at the thought because it was Connor’s job. He was  _ good  _ at taking cock, good at all of this, and when Hank rocked his hips up to meet Connor on his downward bounce, they both groaned loudly, openly, surrendering to the fever coursing through both of their veins.

It was hard. It was fast. It ate up Hank’s brain cells until all he could think about was more, more, more. Connor felt like molten silk wrapped around him, so tight and so wanting. The even little bursts of pleas and cries in his ear urged him on in ways he couldn’t resist, a siren’s song that felt so much more potent than hearing them through the little speakers on his computer as he wore that video out. His name just sounded so  _ good  _ coming from Connor’s lips. His hands in his hair felt warm and desperate. Sweat stung Hank’s eyes as he looked at Connor’s kiss-bitten lips and dazed, dark eyes. 

“You are so fucking gorgeous,” he growled, fucking into him a little harder as his self-control slipped that much more. “Christ, Connor. Do you have any idea how good you looked spread open like that in my car?”

“I can’t— I can’t believe you watched it—” 

“Oh, I watched it alright,” Hank hissed, white hot pleasure tearing through him as Connor’s passage fluttered around him, so tight and so utterly perfect. “I’ll never get into that car without thinking about you in there, so wet you can hardly stand it.”

“I was thinking about you,” Connor whispered in his ear, clenching around him like the tightest vise on earth. “The whole time. I kept getting distracted. Being in that car, thinking about how big you’d be…”

Hank clutched Connor’s hips tight and drove into him harder. “Oh, my god,” he groaned. “You’re trying to kill me.”

“No, Hank,” laughed Connor breathlessly. He pulled back just enough to meet Hank’s eyes, fingers tangled in his hair, combing and tugging it behind his head. “I’m trying to wring you dry.”

Was it because Connor was a porn star? No, it couldn't be. Porn didn’t have lines that dirty, that fucking hot. This was all Connor, and he was sexier than any porn Hank had ever seen. Hank groaned, throaty and dirty, and braced his feet on the ground. He lifted, thrusted, fucked up as hard as he could, hammering into Connor until the sound of their smacking, wet flesh filled the air and left no space left for conversation. It was fast. It was intensely dirty. Connor pitched forward and clutched at Hank’s shoulders desperately. It couldn’t last long, not with how hard they were working each other, but at the moment, it didn’t matter.

It was good. It was  _ so  _ good.

Hank wanted to do this in his car. Not in the front seat though. He’d already seen Connor like that, and it just made him want more. Connor, dressed in nothing but those dusty little skater shoes, spread out in the back seat and more than ready to fog up the windows with their shared body heat. Connor in tight jeans, the ones he sometimes wore out of the house when he went to get his mail, bent over the hood of his car, ass raised, like an offering, and Hank free to make a mess he wouldn’t mind cleaning up come morning. 

Every fantasy was better than the last. 

It was reality that did Hank in though. Connor was too good like this, too sexy, too determined. He met Hank’s gaze and held it like it was his just due, and without breaking eye contact, he clenched down mercilessly and came right before Hank’s very eyes. He  _ made  _ Hank watch, made him see just how good he felt, and Hank was… Well, he wasn’t immune to perfection. And that’s what Connor was like this. Utter perfection, through and through. 

Hank’s orgasm hit him hard, somewhere in the base of the spine. It burned through him like a forest fire, all encompassing and absolutely without reprieve. Hank grunted and threw back his head, his hips still working, still thrusting up, fucking them both through the after math until Connor pitched forward, arms around his neck, and mewled pitifully for a mercy they both knew neither of them actually wanted. Eventually, Hank was forced to give it regardless; he wasn’t as young as he used to be, and the burning in his legs and arms was too persistent to ignore.

They collapsed into the sofa, a mess of panting limbs and sweaty, shaky flesh. Connor clung to Hank like a limpet, rubbing his cheek against Hank’s chest hair, humming happily. Hank went soft inside him, slipping out when Connor leaned forward for a kiss, and they came down together like that, gentle and slow, kissing without fervor or intention. 

“Wow,” Connor purred once he deigned to pull away, looking between them to see the mess currently smeared all over his inner thighs. “You’re even better than I thought you’d be, and that’s saying something.”

Hank chuckled, hands settling on Connor’s waist to give him a squeeze. “Glad to exceed expectations. You want to get up and get cleaned off?”

Connor shook his head, leaning forward to plaster himself along Hank’s front. “Not even remotely.”

Figured. Hank didn’t really want to get up either. He wrapped his arms around Connor and turned a little, letting gravity carry them both down until they were laid out along the length of the sofa instead. Connor balanced atop his chest and stared at him with sweet, inquisitive eyes, almost as if he couldn’t quite believe this had actually happened. Hank smiled at the thought. He was the one who should have been stunned. After all, he was the crotchety old man and Connor the sexy young model-slash-porn star.

Hank let out a content sigh as Connor nestled his head beneath his chin. “So, you really like my car that much?”

Connor looked up at Hank tiredly, that stupid smile refusing to temper itself into something less lovestruck. He looked over Hank’s chest, his rugged face, his laugh-lined eyes. “Sure, Hank,” he murmured, leaning in for another lingering kiss. “The car is what really got me going.”

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed it! we should have another chapter coming next month to finish this all up. if you wanna check out more of my work, def take a look at my website over at tdcloudofficial.com and see if theres anything there that interests you. the holidays are coming up and theres no better way to celebrate than with some fun gay romance XD until next time!


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